Love and Freedom
by RagnarokSkurai
Summary: WillxJack slash. Jack ponders, and reaches an unsurprising conclusion. Now if only Will could do the same.
1. Jack

Jack ponders. And comes to an unsurprising conclusion.  
  
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Captain Jack Sparrow loved a challenge.  
  
The more difficult the better. If a man said it couldn't be done, the better yet. And if there was some outlandish (or not so outlandish) legend attached to it you could be certain Jack would look into it. He was never one to turn down a dare, even one mention in jest or in passing. He'd done the impossible and then he'd done it again. He'd been the captain of the most feared ship in the Caribbean, a ship said to have sailed to Hell and back. Jack personally had never seen Hell but was most certainly going to see it one day, so that wasn't really an issue. He considered it a promise of things to come. He had a crew consisting of a man with more superstitions than sense, a woman with more mood swings than the sea, a few more individuals even more mad or drunk than he, and a parrot, along with a ship as his mistress and a man in his bed. Aye; it was a good life. But even Jack wasn't mad enough to think it would last. More challenges awaited, and the horizons he had not yet seen clamored for his attention. No, it would not last. But that was the way of things.  
  
It had taken him years to get back the Pearl. Years, more blood than he'd cared to admit, and lots of rum. You've no idea how much rum. She'd been worth it. His ship. His freedom. It was a great irony that his freedom came with an anchor, but Jack was a man who understood contradictions. Like Will, for example. Will had been a bundle of anger and resentment, tied up tightly in manners and propriety. But not as tightly tied as Jack had first thought. The real problem had been getting Elizabeth's hooks out of him. That had proved far more difficult than actually getting Will into his bed. He'd been much more open to the unconventional than one would have thought.  
  
Will was like that. So open and honest you were sure that he was hiding something. But he wasn't, blast him. He was totally, completely up front with everything. Will was sweat and tanned skin with no scars. Will was brown eyes that could turn colder than a witch's tit and a heart as soft as butter. Will was a honeyed mouth and callused hands. Will called out Jack's name each and every time. And when his eyes melted, that too was for Jack. Will was simple, and Will was pliant, and those were things Jack just couldn't stand for. Simplicity, honesty. And monogamy, as it were. Where was the danger? Where was the adrenaline in things like that? How much less of a pirate could he get?  
  
So he couldn't quite explain to himself why no one but Will had been in his bed for three months now. If they were out at sea, that would be perfectly understandable. It was not like he was going to invite Gibbs into it, eh? They were not, however, at sea. They were anchored right off Malaki. Malaki was no Tortuga, but neither was it Port Royal. Jack couldn't have gotten a whore more easily. Frequented a few dozen taverns, gotten into a half-dozen fights, parted with some of his ill-gotten gold, indulged his vices, and committed a few more sins. A day's work and all that. And instead of being out there like the rest of the crew, he was here. Here being his bed, with Will lying sleepily wrapped around him. Cor, Jack was a ruddy idiot sometimes. And he'd caught himself doing the most half-witted things lately. Gently tracing the cheekbone of Will's face as he slept, nuzzling his neck, thinking about Will for no particular reason. Those kinds of things.  
  
He slid off the bed, carefully shifting Will's arm so not to wake him. Jack wasn't completely dense. He knew what all this meant. He had just never considered that he'd fall in love with Will. He hadn't ever given his heart to someone else to guard. Because that wasn't dangerous. That was bloody stupid. And Jack Sparrow – Captain Jack Sparrow– was not a stupid man. Many had called Jack a madman, and it was true indeed. But stupid? There are few people on this earth who can outsmart Jack Sparrow. Provided he's conscious.  
  
But love. Good God! Love wasn't... love was... Up until now, freedom had been so intertwined with love that Jack couldn't tell them apart. And now they were showing themselves as two distinctly different entities and each one was pulling him a different way. Freedom was heading for the hills while love was perfectly content to stay here. Freedom was screaming to dump Will and head into town for the nearest tavern. Love said that the sensible thing to do would be to crawl back into bed.  
  
"Bloody voices..."  
  
He needed some rum.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
So? You like? 


	2. Will

Will was used to wanting. For as long as he remembered he wanted. Wanted a father. Wanted his mother back. Wanted a little more food, a little less work at the smithy. Wanted someone to appreciate his work, someone to acknowledge his existence. Wanted Elizabeth. Wanted Jack. He received none of these things. None but the last.  
  
He didn't believe it at first. What would Jack possibly want him for? Elizabeth wanted him because he was the far lesser of two evils. She would far rather marry her childhood friend than the Commodore. Will had bore that dutifully, as he had always done everything everyone asked of him. He had rescued her from pirates, from Norrington, from every problem thrown her way, large or small. There had been two months of make-believe. Two months of setting a date for the wedding, of uncomfortable stiff clothes and stifling cravats, of imaging his future as he grew used to the feeling of Elizabeth's hand in his. He imagined small children with chocolate hair and coltish limbs scurrying about the house. He knew he would tell them stories, teach them swordplay, both the boys and the girls, and feel a pang in his heart every time one would look too longingly at the sea.  
  
But then Jack Sparrow had walked back into his live, as brilliant as he always had been. Will had thought that perhaps his imagination had run away with his memories. After all... Jack couldn't really have been like that, could he? But he was. He wore just as much kohl, just as many beads in his hair and tattoos on his arms. He was as witty and gorgeous and still as drunk.  
  
And he still had, apparently, whatever inherent gift it was that made Will throw caution to the wind. The Black Pearl spent only three days in port, and Will had been in Jack's bed by the sunset of the third.  
  
Once Elizabeth had known where Will's heart truly lay she had not tried to keep him. She was never one to play second fiddle to anyone, not even Jack Sparrow. They'd sailed away with her understanding, if not her blessing.  
  
Oh, he was in love with Jack of course. It was inevitable. Will was the sort of person who gave love freely. Not to say that he fell in and out of love every other week. No, it was just... if you were the sort of person who deserved love, who inspired it, Will would give it to you. Anamaria, he loved her for her free spirit, her refusal to live by anyone's standards but her own. He loved the Black Pearl, loved the sea. Loved his mother, loved his father. He loved Elizabeth, although that love would be forever stuck in the transition between childhood friend and wife. Jack, now. Jack he loved in every sense of the word. He knew the best place in the world was in Jack's arms, preferably on the Black Pearl with a new sunrise shining in through the window. Will loved sunrises, loved the beginning of new days rather than the ending of old ones. He knew he would love Jack through all of them.  
  
But one day he would no longer have a place in Jack's life. Or at least not a prominent place, and he knew that. One day someone else would catch Jack's eye, something else would catch Jack's interest, and Will would be of the past. But he was not so foolish as to think he would die for his love of Jack, because Jack had taught him to live for the horizon, to live for tomorrow even as tomorrow looked to be worse than today. So Will waited for each sunset, watching it drop beneath the horizon with guarded eyes. Tomorrow loomed ever closer. Tomorrow, the one thing a pirate longed for above treasure and the one thing that Will feared, because one day that horizon would not be the same as Jack's, and he knew that. There was a price to be paid for what Will wanted. One he would pay most willingly. But until then... one eye on the horizon, and one on Jack. 


	3. Stupid Effin' Questions

This has been incredibly slow going. So sorry. The story should pick up in Chapter 4 though, so don't worry. grin. I had to get inside Jack and Will's twisted little minds, and now that I have we can finally get going!

* * *

Was this the day?  
  
That was what Jack thought the minute he woke up everyday without fail, and for almost three weeks now at that.  
  
Was this the day? The day Will would leave, that is. The day Jack would make him. The day they'd start to fall apart, like a rudderless ship left alone to drift until it destroyed itself. Was this the day?  
  
Every kiss - would it be the last? Every touch... aye, touching Will was something Jack would probably still do. He was quite a physical fellow with his friends, and not having the best balance all the time might have something to do with his tendency to throw an arm around a mate's shoulders. But would this be this last time he would touch Will so tenderly? The last time Will would be his lover instead of just his friend, just another member of the crew?  
  
Then there was the question of how it would happen. Whether Jack would be so foolish or become so drunk as to kiss someone when Will was watching. Whether he would say or do something to drive Will away. Or would Will be the one to break it off? It was always possible. Will was honest. Honest about everything. And you could never tell when he was going to do something incredibly... stupid. But was it stupid or smart to end this now? Was it really anything at all? Did Jack even want to break it off? It was the smart thing, wasn't it? Wasn't that what he had decided? He wasn't the sort to be tied down, not in any way.  
  
But even a ship had to be tied down so it wouldn't drift away.  
  
Jack shook his head. What was he thinking? He wasn't a ruddy ship! He was being a bloody idiot, that's what he was. He was obsessing, that's what he was doing. And why?  
  
Love and freedom. His constant battle. Always had been, ever since he was a child. Do you think Jack's mother wanted him to be a pirate? Of course not. Even Anamaria would want something better for her children, though Jack flinched at the thought of the ragamuffins dear Ana would produce. Jack's mother had wanted him to settle down and make something of himself, but the call of the sea had been greater than that of her love and so he'd left. He did visit her from time to time, late at night when no one else could see. She'd sit in her chair by the fireplace, sewing, and then the spanish moss near the window would lift up and away, and with years of practice Jack would step inside. He was always very careful to be only the tiniest bit smashed every time he came. At first his mother had been strained, unused to seeing her Jackie covered in ink and his fine hair wrapped with beads. She had instinctively recoiled from the scent of rum and the sword on his hip. But he had been happy and that was enough for her.  
  
His father had been long gone by then. An ex-soldier who'd spent his days unloading cargo down at the boatyard and his nights telling Jack of the places he'd seen. Places with names like Haiti and Africa, cities like Bordeaux, Valencia, and Bangalore. How he'd always wanted to see the Far East and had never gotten to, but he would tell Jack of the things he'd heard. Jack made sure to visit the East every few years. Not for pirating, but for the memories. Both his parents were gone now and someone else; a butcher, a sausage-maker had bought the house he'd grown up in with, and the poor man had three holy terrors as daughters. Jack wished him luck, and hoped for the butcher's sake that the daughters would never discover you could climb out the bedroom windows and down the oak tree, and then back up again. Perfect for those midnight trysts.  
  
And no matter the faults or problems of this – Jack hesitated to call it a relationship, but he did have to call it something – relationship, one thing that Jack wholeheartedly loved about Will was that the boy had sense enough not to try to change him. Not to wrangle promises or secrets out of him. Will knew when to back off and when to press forward, like any good swordsman. Jack had met many a girl who'd tried to change him. As though pirating was his escape from having a family and a brick house. Even whores were not above their romantic fancies, he supposed, but it was not bloody likely. When Jack became too old or injured to properly wield a sword, he was buying a tavern in Tortuga and stocking it with the best rum, ale, brandy, and whiskey to be found. Lord knows how he'd ever manage to turn a profit, but he planned on being filthy rich by then, so what the hell.  
  
But why was there freedom in that, and not in being with Will? If he couldn't even come up with a straight answer himself, how was he to ever decide anything? And _why _couldn't he stop asking himself all these bloody questions?  
  
"Here."  
  
Jack looked up to see Will holding out a bottle of rum out towards him, a wry smirk on his face.  
  
"You looked like you could use it."  
  
Jack grasped the bottle and set it down beside him, taking time to admire Will's burnished skin, a burnt on tan that came from so many hours in the sun you've no need of clothes anymore. A fact Jack quite relished, thank you. "It's not quite what I was in the mood for."  
  
"Well then," Will answered easily. "Why are you out here on deck and not back in the cabin?"  
  
Why indeed.


	4. Rum is a Vile Drink

Rum, Will had decided, was an acquired taste. It was, quite honestly, the most bloody awful drink in the world.  
  
Or so he had thought at first.  
  
He had admittedly known little about spirits. He hadn't done much drinking, but when he had indulged, it had been a good ale. He had had wine on occasion, especially in those few months as Elizabeth's fiancée, and he neither liked it nor disliked it. It was just another drink. A different flavor. It was more expensive, and from what Will could tell, for no real reason other than the class it afforded.  
  
Rum, now. Rum was shocking. Bittersweet and cloying and almost acidic. It burned either your throat or your stomach, depending on how quickly you swallowed. It also, Will soon discovered, went to your head shockingly fast. Jack was a remarkable man to be able to walk as crooked a line as he did. It was amazing that he could walk at all, with what he drank.  
  
But Jack's drinking never was and never would be a problem. He drank to drink. That's all. It didn't made him angry or violent, as it was wont to do in some men. It didn't make him more lecherous, because only God knew how that could be possible. It made his accent thicken and his eyebrows waggle with disarming irregularity. Nothing that was harmful. It was amusing, and sexy, and Will wouldn't have made Jack change. It did grow on you. As all vices do.  
  
As for rum, Will had been moved from distaste to dislike to toleration to acceptance to... well, to almost actually liking it. After all, there was the rum that Jack's lips and mouth would forever taste of, the rum that his mustache was inevitably steeped in, the rum that fell onto his clothes and chest and almost any other place you could think off. Will had begun to associate the taste of rum with the taste of Jack. So yes, rum was an acquired taste. But then again, many things are. 


	5. Ye Gods, the Blushing

There was nothing Jack loved more than when Will blushed. It covered his whole face, and if he was especially embarrassed, even his whole body. How the boy could still be embarrassed about anything was a bit beyond Jack's understanding. He thought he had taken care of that by their first week together. Not that he was complaining, really. There was the faint flush, the rush of blood to Will's cheeks and the little frown that would appear between Will's eyebrows. Jack termed it 'absolutely ravishing', since the next best thing he could come up with was 'adorable' and he'd be damned before he called anything over five and without curls 'adorable'.  
  
Though Will's hair was rather curly...  
  
The first time Jack had kissed him, Will had blushed from the top of his head to his toes. And being so absolutely ravishing, Jack had had to kiss him again. The boy was a walking temptation, whether he knew it or not. There were a lot of things that Jack loved– there was that blasted word again – about Will, but the blush was definitely one of his favorites.  
  
Let's see if he couldn't wring one out of the boy now, hmm?  
  
Jack slowly lowered the sheet. Will shivered as the night air touched his skin, but calmed once Jack slid onto the bed beside him.  
  
Just that simple action was something in itself. Will sleeping beside him was something Jack treasured. As a pirate, he knew that you were never as vulnerable as when you slept. You were defenseless, residing in an unseeing, unhearing dreamland. He could do anything to Will, like this, and Will would be powerless to stop him. At least until it was too late.  
  
Not that he would ever do anything to Will! It was... it was the principle of the thing. :snicker: Yes, that was it. Will trusted him. And that... bloody hell, that meant something. Trust was something more precious than gold.  
  
Jack placed a soft kiss on Will's neck, inhaling the musk scent of Will. This boy... was his...  
  
"Mmmm... Jack?"  
  
"You were expecting someone else?"  
  
"Not with that big of a... mustache." The overly dramatic pause was enough to tell Jack that Will was teasing him. And the grin playing on the edges of the boy's lips wasn't obvious in the least, either.  
  
"You wound me, lad." In truth, if anything Jack's own smile grew wider in turn. A month ago Will wouldn't have been able to make that sort of wisecrack. Maybe even a week ago. And certainly not without blushing. Huh. No blushing. Guess Jack would just have to up the ante then, eh?  
  
He kissed the side of Will's neck one more, then began trailing kisses down Will's spine, and felt the shift of Will's hips beneath his hands.  
  
"Jack..." Will protested groggily. Jack was sure had meant to sound annoyed, but he only sounded as if he were on the edge of a blush.  
  
"Yes, love?" Soft lips and sharp teeth continued downward, intent on one thing.  
  
The muscles in Will's back flexed. "Ah, I..."  
  
Yes, that simply had to be a blush.  
  
Jack abandoned his search for treasure for the moment, and rolled Will over until he was facing him.  
  
"Blushing again?"  
  
His only answer was another rush of blood to Will's face and Will's fingers digging deeper into Jack's hips. Rather hard, maybe a little too hard, but Jack didn't care and he figured that Will didn't even notice what he was doing.  
  
"You know, love..." A wet mouth trailed along Will's jaw line and dipped to the neck. "You looked so... delectable, like this. I could simply... eat... you... up..."  
  
Will mumbled something and arched into Jack's touch. He was apparently quite awake now.  
  
Jack reached down and impatiently ripped the sheets away, nearly growling when Will's body came into full view. There were no clouds tonight, and the moonlight was streaming through the window almost as bright as day.  
  
Holding Will's squirming hips in his hands, he stroked the indentation where leg met hip with his thumbs and lips and tongue. Will's skin tasted like Will scent; like musk, and slightly like honey, something he was never quite sure how Will managed. Will always tasted like that.  
  
Warm hands settled on his shoulders, tangled in his loose hair.  
  
"Jack... do you think, perhaps, you could have on a little less clothing?"  
  
Will's voice had taken on that rough edge Jack knew so well. The voice that said he was totally aroused and enjoying it. Will's voice, period, had kept Jack on the very edge of sanity when this adventure had started. Because William Turner had been vehemently against pirates and arse over heels in love with the beautiful Lady Swann. That had soon changed. But even then - ye gods, that voice. Smooth as silk and as cutting as the blade its master wielded.  
  
When they had first crossed swords Jack had been impressed at the courage (or perhaps sheer, blind stupidity) of a simple blacksmith who would dare challenge a pirate at swordplay. When Will had turned out to be his match, he'd been quite impressed. And slightly panicked. So, yes, he'd cheated. Pirate, after all. Will was lucky Jack had only tried to escape and ignored his first impulse, which was to jump the boy then and there. Especially once Will had spoken. His voice had sounded like absolute innocence, but coupled with the fire and sensuality Jack had seen in his fighting...  
  
When he learned of Will's lineage later the next day, everything had clicked into place. Bootstrap would have been unable to take more than precious little time to teach Will how to swash-buckle with the best of them, but the boy must have taken what lessons he'd had to heart. He'd inherited his father's argumentative spirit as well. Will never missed a chance to mouth off. Oh, he'd been a polite lad - incredibly so - but once Will reached a certain point there was no stopping him from saying what he wanted to say.  
  
Now he could hear that voice whenever he wanted. Whether Will was muttering brokenly in his sleep or talking to Anamaria or singing softly to himself as he fixed the rigging. On occasion that voice would whisper shockingly arousing things to him. Will was not above passing Jack on deck and making a comment that was guaranteed to completely wreck Jack's train of thought. Will, Jack thought fondly, was the worst and best sort of tease, because Jack knew that while Will would always follow through with what he had promised, he wouldn't until the sun had gone down. One of the few rules they had. Anamaria was constantly trying to catch them in a compromising position, and Jack suspected some of the other crew members were as well. So as appetizing as the thought of having Will out on deck was, it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Because Will was no one's but his.  
  
Practiced hands began unbuttoning Jack's shirt and pushing it over his shoulders. Callused hands, blacksmith hands, and now pirate hands as well. Hands that had never been meant to live in luxury. In truth, the thought of Will as a 'gentleman' was utterly ridiculous. It was like Elizabeth being a pirate. It was a pipe dream, the kind not meant to last, just to be enjoyed for a time.  
  
"If you don't mind me saying," Jack continued, his voice as steady and serious as possible for him, "These trousers are much too tight to stay on much longer."  
  
Will's laugh was breathy and knowing. "If you don't mind me saying, I think I want you out of them more than you do."  
  
"I highly doubt that," Jack grunted, lifting up his hips so Will could slide the fabric down. He kicked his feet impatiently, sending the clothing flying across the small cabin.  
  
He pressed down onto Will, groaning loudly. He needed this. Soft skin and hard muscle underneath. It was ridiculous, this lack of control he'd had lately. He'd gone weeks without sex before, stuck on a ship with nothing more appealing than his hand. And now he needed Will two, three times a day. Night. Whatever.  
  
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And truthfully, Jack didn't give a toss.  
  
A hand wrenched in his hair, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. Will was still blushing, Jack noted idly. But he wasn't as embarrassed so much as incredibly aroused. Jack couldn't help but love it either way.  
  
"I am going to make you scream my name," Jack suddenly swore. "Scream it so loud the whole ship'll hear it, so bloody loud that you won't be able to look any of the crew in the face for a week, and you'll walk around blushing..." God, he wanted Will to sob for want of him. He wanted more. Sometimes skin to skin was enough, sometimes just sleeping next to Will was enough. But tonight, it seemed like nothing was enough.  
  
At that moment, he would have gladly signed over his freedom for the love of this man.  
  
Despite his earlier moments of indecision, Jack now knew what he wanted. Will. He wanted Will. Forever. Knowing that didn't help anything, unfortunately. Appealing images of keeping Will locked in this cabin forever aside. Will may have been pretty, but he was no pushover. Every day Jack watched Will change. Watched his skin grow darker, his hair grow longer and lighter, his step surer. Jack watched Will grow into himself, become his own person. And as happy as that made Will, and in turn Jack, he couldn't help but worry that one day Will would go back to Port Royal or settle in that little Irish town he'd found so charming, or maybe get a ship of his own. For pirates, things tended to be either without end or damningly short.  
  
"Jack..."  
  
He could only hope that at the very least this was somewhere in the middle. Jack didn't think he could take it if Will was only his for awhile. As Anamaria had once been. That had been painful enough. Sometimes he thought that this could destroy him.  
  
But he wouldn't think of this now. Not with Will writhing and begging beneath him. Not when he still had Will. Not when he was so close. Not when they were both so close. Not when –  
  
Face buried in the crook of Jack's neck, Will screamed.

* * *

It was later, when Jack and Will were lying side by side, arms and legs entangled and hair spread out over the pillows that Will began to chuckle.  
  
"I screamed like a bloody girl."  
  
"I noticed." A blinding grin. "Sure you aren't one?"  
  
"Not the last time I checked. Or you checked, for that matter."  
  
"Let's check again, then!" Cheekily, Jack reached over to pinch one of Will's nipples. "If you're a girl you're certainly a flat-chested one. Even Anamarie's got more than that." No, Will was no girl.  
  
"I'll be sure to tell her you said so," Will countered lazily.  
  
"You wouldn't." So much for teasing Will about being a eunuch. Anamaria would have his parts in a jar...  
  
"I would. But, of course, I might be _persuaded_ to keep my mouth shut."  
  
Jack began to grin again. Bollocks, but this was ridiculous. He was seriously considering cutting back on the amount of rum he was drinking. "And what would you be desiring, my William?"  
  
_Because I would give you anything._


	6. Back to Port Royal

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"You think you'd have figured out what I was doing by now." Jack smiled down at the top of Will's head, his fingers nimbly working away at the tie around Will's hair and the front of Will's shirt. "The rest of the crew is in town, drinking and whoring and gambling. There's no one on the ship but you and me. And there's a certain image of you and me on deck that's been playing through my mind lately..."

"Jack Sparrow!" That couldn't have been anything less than a blush.

"William Turner!" he mocked tipsily. There, finally got the blasted tie off! "And that's Captain to you." That was better. Will refused to keep his hair loose all the time, despite Jack's best efforts to convince him otherwise. So a tie was always knotted around it, the locks pulled back and out of the way, only to be let down again in the cabin. Only in the cabin. Probably why Jack liked Will's hair down. Untied hair equals cabin equals ravished Will. Or in this case, soon-to-be-ravished Will.

"And it's such a pleasant fantasy, love. The original idea was about bathing in sunlight, but at least these days I no longer find moonlight quite so frightening." Half a snicker from Will at that. "Now all we have to do is get you naked."

"And then?"

"Then I proceed to ravish you. Several times. In rather imaginative ways, if I do say so myself."

"No rum?"

Silently, Jack cursed his lack of foresight. Rum would have been a nice touch. "Ah, but I'd take you over rum any day, lad."

Instantly, Will stiffened up. Jack the muscles under his hand tighten, and he absentmindedly began to stroke them until he again relaxed.

"Will?"

After another moment, Will shrugged and twisted halfway around to look at Jack. "Coming from you that's a rather meaningful statement, is all."

"Well, I meant it. Would make it meaningful, I suppose." Jack tilted his head and looked down at Will curiously. Bollocks. It was too effing dark to see anything, much less exactly what was shining out of Will's eyes. "Although any pirate worth his salt would never say no to both."

After a pause that was just a moment too long, Will looked up at Jack and grinned. "Then I believe there's a certain tavern in town where we can _have_ both? Then later, maybe the deck."

As always, Jack couldn't help grinning in return, but he was left with the distinct feeling that something was off. Something was wrong.

Earlier, Anamaria had asked where they were shipping off to next. Jack briefly wished for Caribbean islands and sugar plantations, because he had a sudden, sinking feeling that it would instead be Port Royal.

* * *

Ack! I'm sorry for the shortness and/or crappiness of this chapter! But people wanted to know if I was still updating, and, if so, when I was updating. So... here! throws chapter at rabid reviewersMore soon, I promise!

Really, I love you all ;). Naked Jacks and Wills and drinks all around!


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